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She dropped the phone in a pocket and brushed snow off the front of her jeans.

"The Pentagon wants a peacekeeping mission drawn up. Seems there's trouble brewing somewhere in Africa."

"Do you believe that?" Kerney asked as he checked the engine for damage.

It seemed intact.

"Does that thing run?" Sara asked.

"It better."

Sara nodded in agreement.

"It's not unusual for the school to prepare tactical plans and operational field doctrines for peacekeeping missions. Geopolitical assessments based on proposed strategic military deployments have to be factored in if the mission is going to succeed."

"Really?" Kerney said as he cut away the deflated passenger's-side airbag. The road was clear in both directions.

"But do you believe it?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Sara said innocently.

"Aren't you interested in geopolitics and military field doctrine?"

"I'm deeply interested. Tell me about it while I drive."

Sara slid onto the seat.

"No, I'd just be babbling."

"Babble all you want," Kerney said as he pulled onto the highway.

"After what just happened, I need the distraction."

Sara prattled a little and Kerney asked stupid questions. Several miles down the road they found Bobby Sloan's body inside the Bronco and their survivors' euphoria vanished.

Chapter 14

In the courthouse basement Tim Ingram got word of Applewhite's screw-up and went into damage-control overdrive. He ordered the chopper pilot and the surveillance team on the scene to shut down the highway in both directions-nothing in, nothing out. Kerney and Sara Brannon were to be held in protective custody.

He called the commander at Kirtland Air Force Base, invoked a Defense Department intelligence directive, and ordered the immediate dispatch of a security forces unit and a munitions team to the Ramah highway.

They were to relieve personnel on-site, secure the area, establish roadblocks, and remove all bodies and vehicles ASAP.

Helicopters took off with two combat control teams. Vehicles and heavy equipment rolled with munitions experts onboard.

By phone Ingram gave the base public-information officer a press release cover story. All news outlets were to be advised of an accident involving a military armament shipment on the Ramah highway during a heavy snow storm. Cleanup crews were en route. There was no danger to the public. Motorists were cautioned to detour around the area or expect long delays.

At computer consoles, team members sent top-secret encrypted messages to the White House and the Pentagon, conveyed satellite photographs of the failed hit to the Defense Intelligence Agency, forwarded Applewhite's recorded radio traffic to the National Security Agency, and transmitted Ingram's contingency plan to army intelligence.

Ingram fired off his own quick status report: assignment blown, nontarget police officer killed, field operative dead, containment teams en route, advise no further action. He ordered up an air force chopper, told the team to shut everything down, and hauled ass to the airport.

The Bronco had landed on its right side. The seat belt had kept Bobby Sloan's body from sliding down to the passenger window. Shards from the blown-out windshield glimmered in the dark blood pool that coated the glass. Weapons, flashlights, and equipment had broken loose from mounting racks and were strewn about the cab. Clipped to the windshield visor was a photograph of Bobby's wife, which he always carried with him as a good-luck charm.

Kerney reached through the windshield, pulled out Sloan's briefcase, and went through it with blood-sticky fingers. He found Bobby's surveillance log, tore it up, and watched as the wind scattered the pieces. He tossed the case back inside the vehicle and kept his eyes off Bobby's face as he yanked out the on-board laptop, stomped on it, and spun it into the trees out of sight.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked.

Heartsick, Kerney shook his head.

"I don't know." He felt deflated, angry, helpless. He kicked a piece of the shattered laptop away, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"It's over. It ends right here."

He pulled out his cell phone.

"I'm calling it in. Bobby, Apple white, Perry-the whole stinking mess."

Sara stepped up to Kerney and gripped his arm to stop him.

"Lets think this through."

Kerney didn't want to hear it.

"We're outgunned, outmanned, and outmaneuvered."

"We've got company," Sara said.

He looked over his shoulder and tensed. Two men in camouflage fatigues came out of the woods carrying assault rifles. They crossed the road in a disciplined, perfect tandem, weapons at the ready.

Sara reached into her pocket and wrapped her hand around the 38.

Kerney judged the distance to the nearest cover, snaked his hand inside his jacket, and grasped the semiautomatic.

One of the men called out, "Chief Kerney, Colonel Brannon, step away from each other and put your hands in the air where we can see them.

Chief Kerney, slowly turn to face me. Do it now."

"What do you think?" Kerney whispered.

"We better do as they say," she whispered back.

"Do it now!" the man ordered.

"I'm sorry I got you into this," Kerney said as he turned and clasped his hands at the back of his neck.

Sara took her empty hands out of her pockets.

"Let's see what these gentlemen want before you start apologizing."

Ingram flew over the westbound convoy on the Interstate. A troop transport, two flatbeds, an ambulance, a container truck, and a big-rig tow-truck were moving in close formation, led by a Hummer with flashing lights.

Ingram waited for his orders to come in by encrypted radio relay. If the removal sanction remained in effect, could he do it? Instructions came through to contain and suppress if possible. Ingram looked out the cockpit window and smiled.

In his headset Ingram caught chopper traffic as the two Special Ops teams arrived at the scene and blocked the highway. He listened to pilots bark off-load orders as team members dropped into intercept positions at the few dirt roads that fed onto the highway.

On approach he had the pilot make a run down the five-mile containment area. They flew over the mountain pass roadblock, over Kerney and Sara Brannon under guard next to the Bronco, past the line of special-ops airmen guarding side roads, past Charlie Perry in the shot-up car, and on to the western roadblock.

Ingram ordered his chopper back to the Bronco. The pilot put the bird down on the highway. Ingram walked through deep snow to Kerney and Sara Brannon. Both were cuffed, hands at their backs. He had the cuffs removed and sent the guards out of earshot.

He looked at them for a long minute before speaking. Kerney's jaw muscles were torqued together. Sara Brannon's eyes questioned him, but she gave no sign of recognition.

"Shouldn't you be on your way back to Fort Leavenworth, Colonel?" Ingram asked.

"I was just leaving," Sara replied.

"That may still be possible," Ingram said. A cold wind blew against his neck. He turned up his collar.

"But first, tell me what you know."

"I know one of my officers has just been murdered," Kerney replied sharply.

"Make this easy on yourself, Chief," Ingram said wearily.

"I'll ask the questions. How did you ID me?"

Kerney stared hard at Ingram before replying.

"You were named as the source who confirmed that Applewhite'was FBI."

"Who passed on the information to you?"

"A friend of mine."

"Does he have a name?" Ingram asked sharply.

"Chief Baca of the state police."

"Did Chief Baca assist you in any other way?"

"No."

Ingram took in the answer without comment and glanced at the Bronco.